


Not Given Lightly

by Iris_Celeno



Category: Code Black (TV)
Genre: Drug Abuse, F/M, Neal and Christa still love each other, lots of friendships, other characters to be added - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2018-07-10 14:21:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6988705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iris_Celeno/pseuds/Iris_Celeno
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-finale. Christa thinks she lost Neal. Neal doesn't want to lose Christa. Angus and Heather's growing addiction issue weaves a tangled web around Angels Memorial...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hurt

**Author's Note:**

> This is a "serious" post-finale fic (as opposed to a purely shippy, revengeful one that is in the tubes and that I will hopefully be able to post soon) and my hopes for S2.  
> Rating may go up in later chapters.  
> The first chapter picks up just after the staircase scene.  
> Non beta-ed, please forgive any mistake you might find.

_What can I say ? The words destroy all meaning._  
_Not Given Lightly_ , lyrics by Christopher Alexander Knox.

Christa could only hear her heart beating like a drum, utter dread filling her as she walked rapidly to the locker room. Did she hear him call her back? Maybe she should have waited. Maybe he would have said something then, maybe...

 _Don't even go there_ , she scolded inwardly. 

She was relieved when she found the room empty. The silence and half-light of early morning had something out of this world, something soothing. She sat down on the bench and took her head between her shaking hands. 

She had known. She had known she'd have to say those words. She had known that once more, it would come to her to make a decision that would leave her hurting the most. Had she done anything else in her life in the last ten years?

She let out a wry laugh, swallowed a sob as her nerves threatened to shatter.

She used to think he was different. She used to think she could trust him. She used to think they had something real. 

Well, she had been wrong.

But at least, this time, she didn't fool herself for too long. Caught the first warning signs, gave the benefit of the doubt, but didn't stay in vain and fight alone, didn't wait for support that would never come, getting more vulnerable for it and nearly destroying herself in the process.

_Progress here, Christa. Focus on the positive._

Yet first, she had to face the truth. Rip the band-aid and be done with it. She braced herself, a lump forming in her throat and another at the pit of her stomach. 

She needed honesty, and she had to pry bits and pieces of truth out of him.  
She needed clarity, and he sent mixed signals.  
She needed respect, and he didn't respect her enough to be honest or clear with her.

She had fallen in love with him, and he didn't love her. 

She bit her lip. That last one hurt like a bitch. She refused to add “not really”, “not enough”, or “he had feelings for her but” because in the end, the result was all one and the same. She took a long, cleansing breath. Ripping done. Good. Things were more easily forgotten once they were admitted, otherwise they festered and eventually caused even more pain.

Well, things were admitted. Could it get more painful? Somehow, she doubted it.

Anyway, for now, she had to leave this place and fast. Since she had been stupid enough to let her guard down and failed to protect her heart, all that she could save was her dignity. She'd be able to face Neal, she'd be able to face his ex who was probably his current girlfriend again, but not right now. She had a simple five stages program to respect: Get dressed, get out, get home, get some sleep, get over it. 

Easy peasy. 

She opened the door of her locker, and her eyes fell upon her son's toy. Before she could block the memories, she remembered how he used to throw his little arms around her or kiss her cheek whenever she looked sad or tired. She remembered his sweet baby smell and how it never failed to soothe her and make her feel whole. She remembered how she found strength in his heartbeat, his in breathing, in the fact that he was alive and sleeping peacefully in her arms even during their darkest hours. She remembered how it felt, to love and be loved unconditionally. And she felt more than ever the gaping, bottomless hole in her heart where this love used to be...as well as the dim, constant pain that her happiness of the last months had made more bearable.

Tears welled to her eyes. She wiped them impatiently. She wouldn't fall apart, not for a mere heartbreak. 

She was almost ready when the door opened, and her stomach made a flip in wary anticipation. Thankfully, it was Malaya who showed up. She was proud of herself when she managed to offer her friend a brief smile, before checking busily her belongings in an attempt to hide any possible sign of turmoil.

“Oh, Christa,” her colleague just said, shaking her head. 

“OK, I need to work on my noncommittal face,” she sighed.

“It wasn't too bad. But I bumped into Neal in front of the elevator and he looked shaken. It gave me a hunch.”

“Probably unrelated to me,” the blonde shrugged. “He already looked shaken, earlier, when his ex-girlfriend who makes it clear she wants him back was holding his hand, and he let her.”

She expected to sound bitter, she expected to feel angry. She didn't. Just sad and void and somehow, it was worse. But at least her voice was even and it reassured her. She could do it. She could pretend she was fine, until she truly was. 

“Christa, he isn't interested in her anymore. I wasn't just trying to comfort you when I said that. The way he looks at you...” Malaya argued, but she realized it was getting her nowhere and changed tack. “She wants you apart. You said it, she wants him back. You can't let her win.”

She felt terribly young when her friend smiled back wistfully, all-knowingly.

“This isn't a game, Malaya,” Christa explained, her voice soft and her tone reasonable, but sorrow permeating every of her words. “Neal isn't a trophy. I can't be with someone who doesn't know what he wants and worse, who he wants. As for me, I know. I don't ever want another relationship that makes me feel miserable. I don't want, I don't need any more stress in my life. So I ended things.”

Malaya all but yelped.

“What? But...What did he say?”

“Nothing. See, finally he was clear.” 

Malaya didn't agree, she couldn't believe that Neal would want a separation. Not the man she had seen so in love with her friend. But she understood that Christa was trying to keep it together, and she didn't want to push her. So she took her hand, squeezed it.

“I'm sorry.”

“Thank you.” She sighed. “Hey, I know we were supposed to have breakfast with Mario and Angus, but I'm not sure I'll be good company and...Malaya? What's wrong?”

Eyes like hers had probably inspired the saying about mirrors of the soul, Christa thought. And it wasn't annoyance or concern that had just flashed in the hazel gaze at the mention of the other residents, but deep anguish.

“Oh, nothing important,” she tried to deflect. “Don't worry about it, you have a lot on your plate.”

“Breaking-up emptied my plate,” Christa stressed. “I can see it's serious. Can you tell me about it? Can I help, in any way?”

Malaya sat on the bench. She gazed at Christa, thought of how young she felt a moment ago, talking with her; of how since the assault, she always had the words that made her feel better whenever she had a moment of weakness during shifts. She was their big sister. Of course she could help.

“I don't know what to do. It's Angus. But we can't talk about it here. Mario and I are meeting at his place after shift. He's going to be late, though.” 

“OK, so text him that I'll drive you there. We'll pick up breakfast on the way. I'll be waiting for you in the stairs.”

Malaya was already out of her scrubs and putting her jeans on.

“I'll be quick.”

Not quick enough. The door opened again and this time, it was Grace Adams who entered the room. Christa's insides twisted, whereas the attending froze and then scrutinized her face for a handful of seconds.

“What an exhausting shift,” the newcomer then said, walking to her locker with an affable smile. 

It felt forced, as forced as Christa's vague assent. But the latter was surprised she managed to utter anything, least sound rather normal. 

Grace's gaze was now on Malaya, obviously waiting for an answer, maybe an opening in order to start a conversation. 

“I'm good, Christa. Let's go,” Malaya announced, dropping hurriedly her phone in her bag, slamming her locker door shut...and giving the other woman her best stink eye.

Grabbing Christa's arm, Malaya all but dragged her away, imposing a rapid pace as they walked out of Angels Memorial and into the parking lot. She cursed herself for not dressing faster. Her friend followed like a zombie, which told her how much facing Grace Adams had disturbed her. And yet, when Christa broke the silence, it was to say the most unexpected words.

“Don't do that,” she asked in a low voice, and when Malaya threw a surprised glance at her, she added, “The snubbing thing.”

“Why? You're my friend, she caused you grief. I won't let her get away with it.”

“Oh, Malaya...I can't tell you...” Christa paused so as to control a quiver in her voice. “I can't tell you how much I appreciate to have someone on my side.”

Something in her expression reminded Malaya of the one and only time when Christa had talked a bit about her failed marriage. Mostly, it was how she and her husband disagreed concerning the treatment their son should receive and how they should deal with his disease. And earlier, she implied that another relationship made her feel miserable... 

“Of course I'm on your side.”

Christa offered her a grateful smile, even though it didn't reach her eyes. 

“I know. But first of all, she's an attending and you'll have to work with her. I don't want you to jeopardize your position on my behalf.”

“It's my prerogative.”

“Yes, it is. But Malaya, it won't help me. You see, I was taught that self-respect is also about respecting others. And it's true. I don't want to lower myself to petty retaliation. It wouldn't do me any good. Oh, I won't pretend that I like Grace Adams, or that I don't resent her for the way...”

“She constantly tried to meddle in and undermine your relationship with Neal?” Malaya provided, pointedly, as her friends was trying to formulate her thoughts.

“Yeah,” Christa admitted. “Yet, in the end, it wouldn't have mattered if Neal...”

 _Had loved me, had believed that what we had was worth it_ , she thought, yet the words refused to cross her lips.

“If Neal and I had been stronger together,” she managed to articulate. 

“She went knowingly after a man who isn't free. It's wrong. I might have to work with her, but I don't want anything to do with someone like her on a personal level. Not even as a friendly colleague, and I wouldn't even if you weren't involved. Her sweetie pie schtick doesn't fool me.”

Christa didn't react, walking with her eyes down, so Malaya went on: “It doesn't fool anyone, for that matter. Amy and the nurses nicknamed her 'Dr Coo' because of the way she behaves whenever Neal's around. Also, I know that Jesse used to like her and I think he still does...yet, fact is that he lets them get away with it.”

She intended to cheer Christa up and let her know that if her boyfriend had failed her, her friends and colleagues wouldn't. She certainly didn't expect her already pale face to turn ashen. 

“I guess that's what I get for getting into a romantic relationship at my workplace,” Christa murmured. 

She stopped walking, took Malaya's hand. 

“Malaya, I ask you to be civil to her. As a favor. Not for her. Please, for my sake. I need this place to be safe for me. I don't have anywhere else.” She didn't try to hide how affected she was anymore, her blue eyes haunted. “I don't want a daily reminder of what happened. I don't want to grant that woman an importance in my life she doesn't have, less now that I severed that twisted link I had with her through Neal. I don't want to give anyone the satisfaction to see that I'm hurt.”

Christa made another pause. Her voice was hoarse as she went on, “I thought I had something beautiful, and it turned out it was an illusion. But I don't want to make it ugly. I just want to leave it behind. I want to stick to my original plan: Be the best possible doctor I can be. I also want to focus on what's important. Right now, Angus has problems. This is the priority. So please, Malaya?”

“For you,” Malaya answered after staring at her for a minute, squeezing her hand tighter. “Damn your puppy-dog eyes.”

She had hesitated to make the joke, but she was glad she did when this time, Christa's smile reached her eyes for a second.

***

“Are you kidding me?” Angus snapped, a desperate edge to his voice. “How can you say no more?!”

Heather shushed him, throwing worried looks around the deserted service staircase. 

“Not so loud! I can't, Angus. I managed to thwart Campbell, but there's no way I can go on using his prescriptions.”

Twice Angus had tried to stop...twice guilt, remorse and fear tortured him until he could hear nothing but Gordon's threats and gurgling, dying voice, could see nothing but Gordon's blood flowing, could feel nothing but that cold blind need to ensure the monster died, could think nothing but that he was a murderer now. He had killed and he was torn between relief that he got away with it, terror that he'd be caught sooner or later, horror at what he had done and it was too much for him. He wouldn't be able to live with it. Never.

“Then we can use someone else's...”

After all, Mario used his a few months before, he wouldn't mind...A little voice in his head told him that he couldn't do that to his friend, desperation argued and might have won unless the much louder and peremptory voice of logic asserted that his colleague already blew the whistle on him about his Adderall use and wouldn't hesitate to do it again. 

“Angus! We can't get anything from the hospital. Not anymore.”

“Why?” he whined.

“Because Campbell will try to catch me red-handed. Me, or anyone who could provide me illegally. You can bet that he's going to keep a very close eye on Pharmacy and for a very long time. He will launch an investigation for every missing milligram, you can count on it.”

“I can't stay like this. I can't.” He took his head between his hands. 

“You think you're the only one?” she snarled. 

Her outburst, as violent as it was sudden, left him blinking. Heather's usual weapons were cutting remarks and cold irony.

“I blackmailed my boss. He accused me publicly and to save my job, I forced him to eat crow in front of Harbert. He feels humiliated, do you realize what it means for someone with an ego the size of Jupiter? He will know no rest until he has my head on a pike. I've seen him pressure people he believed unworthy or he didn't like into quitting. I have two more years of residency to go, and it will be a daily nightmare.”

More than a nightmare, it would be hell. Her throat constricted painfully and her heart froze in her chest as she truly began to imagine the extent of Campbell's certain retaliation. Since she left Atlanta, she could function on a pill or two of Adderall a day but there was no way she could stand what was coming without going back to harder stuff.

“I know...all this pressure...”

“Now you don't,” she retorted, angry tears welling to her eyes. “Your boss is your brother and he'd do anything to protect you. Nobody will protect me from Campbell, and I'll be all alone!”

Someone like Angus couldn't understand. If he lost his job he'd still have money, a family and friends whereas she'd be left with nothing. She'd be back to square one...and the awful perspective allowed her to regain self-control. There was no use wailing now. She had worked too hard to get where she was, she wouldn't let anyone or anything get in her way, even if it meant coping like she used to.

“Heather...” Angus stammered, his big brown eyes full of compassion and anguish.

“Nevermind. It's OK. Let's be practical and come up with a solution.”

“Can we try something else? Booze, if we drink off shift ?” 

“No, there's no way you take off the stench and the signs are too recognizable anyway. Same for pot. The best would be to stick to amphets, they're the easiest to get and the most easily manageable. We just need another route.”

“You know any?” 

“Where I was before, not in LA. It shouldn't be hard to find a dealer, the problem is to find a safe one who won't flog us with shit that would kill us. Someone who knows someone who knows us...”

“Wait,” Angus cut short, his face lighting as he went on excitedly, “I think I know someone. A few months ago, Mario and I treated a sophomore in college who took amphets during a party. Mario and I did him a solid by not telling his parents, and in exchange he took an appointment for counseling. He was with his best friend. Mario was sure the guy was his dealer, because he was even more nervous at the idea that the parents might call the police.”

“And?”

“And I treated him again for a minor injury a couple weeks back. He remembered me, thanked me again 'for his friend'...and in retrospect, I suppose he offered me his services.”

It didn't surprise Heather. Dealers had a knack of feeling a client.

“You remember his name?”

“I can look into my files.”

***

In the surgeons's breakroom, under the unforgiving white neon light, Neal was sitting on a chair, his head between his hands. He still didn't know what hit him. 

He was aware that he didn't handle the situation well, he had felt Christa's growing frustration in the last two weeks. He felt guilty for his own behavior. But he didn't expect her reaction. When he saw the exhausted, disillusioned look on her face, he had understood that making a pause in their relationship was an option for her. Yet, he had been so floored by her reasons that he had found himself at loss for words and when he managed to call her back, she was almost out of sight and probably didn't hear him. 

How ironic that the very thing he had tried his damnedest to prevent had happened. He had hurt her. He had hurt them.

_I won't be anyone's second choice._

How did she draw such a conclusion? It couldn't be because he prioritized Grace's patient above hers, could it? He had told her that Grace was his past. Didn't she trust him? Didn't she know he would never...

A deadly cold invaded his chest. If she didn't trust him anymore...Oh God.

He had taken her words as an ultimatum. But it wasn't Christa's style. She didn't play games. When she believed he didn't want to sign the HR form, she had had no plans to make him change his mind. At the time, she meant to end things between them...

Until now, he had thought they were having a serious argument. But did she just break-up with him? 

Had he lost her, he wondered, panic invading him. He went for his phone. He had to call her, to talk to her.

But what could he say?

What could he say to her, when he didn't know where he stood, when he didn't know what he did wrong, when he didn't know what derailed? Wouldn't he just hurt her more, wouldn't he destroy any chance he might have left? And would she believe him, anyway? Wouldn't she dismiss any explanation since he didn't react on the spot?

He should have gone after her. But a pissed-off Campbell had suddenly appeared at the end of the corridor, ordering him to scrub in and foolishly, he had thought they would discuss later...

He was still staring at the now black screen, not knowing what to do, when Heather Pinkney barged in.

“Hey,” she greeted.

She looked agitated, her tone was edgy, and it distracted him from his gloomy thoughts. She was a colleague whom he appreciated, for her competence and refreshing if unsettling directness. And she was also having a hard day. 

“I heard you had a problem with Campbell?” he asked, holding his hands up when she threw him a sharp look. “I just know he booted you out of the OR because I was asked to scrub in in your stead. And since I've been on the receiving end of such an order...”

She observed him for a second and finally offered him a genuine smile. “It was a mistake. He thought I did something that I didn't. It's settled now.”

“Good, then.”

“Well, he doesn't like to be wrong, less publicly wrong, so I'm probably still on his shit list,” she shrugged. “I expect him to give me a hard time.”

Neal got up, poured two cups of coffee, handed her one. 

“Heather, you've been very supportive of me since I jumped ship. I know that you defended Mike Leighton and my actions against Campbell's allegations, during the inquiry about Gina's death. I know that he certainly didn't appreciate. So I'd like you to know that if I can be of help, you can always talk to me.”

Surprise flashed in her brown gaze. A cynical shadow briefly darkened her eyes as she ran them over his face, only to be replaced by another sincere smile that made her look so very young all of a sudden. Young and _damaged_ , he thought, the realization coming out of nowhere.

“You know, most men have afterthoughts when they offer their help like this.”

He raised his brows. “I can assure you that it isn't the case here.”

“Yeah, you're one of the rare good guys. I mean, if not for the two-timing your girlfriend business, I wouldn't have doubted it for a second.” 

He gaped at her. What did she just say? 

“What, you aren't? Could have fooled me, with Dr Adams practically living in here,” she remarked flippantly, in between gulps of her coffee.

“Dr Adams visits the girl whom she wants to adopt and who's hospitalized here,” he countered, his voice terse. 

“Hey, I'm not your girlfriend. You don't have to justify yourself. But if I were, and you were hanging out so often with an ex who's still hung up on you, you can bet I wouldn't buy it,” she sneered.

_I won't be anyone's second choice._

There was a knock on the door and as if on cue, Grace showed up.

“Hey,” she greeted with a tentative, commiserating smile.

Heather raised a knowing, mocking brow.

“Anyway...thank you, Dr Hudson. I appreciate your support,” the red-head said, before she added in a sing-song tone. “Time for me to scrub in. Bye, Dr Adams.”

“This girl is trouble,” Grace warned after she was gone. “Be careful.”

“She's a rather nice kid.”

“Not what the OR personnel is saying.” 

“I refuse to listen to gossip,” he scoffed. 

Or maybe he should have, he thought bitterly. If there were rumors, then Christa's attitude made more sense...

“One of your finest qualities,” Grace stressed with a warm smile, peering at him from under her eyelashes.

_An ex who's still hung up on you._

Heather seemed to insinuate that Grace was pursuing him. She did expect them to get back together upon her return, but he immediately discouraged her of this notion, didn't he?

“So I won't say more. I didn't mean to gossip, I was just concerned about you. Actually, I still am...You were in such a state earlier. That's why I'm here.”

“I thought you were visiting Roseline?” he frowned.

Did her smile freeze for a second, or did Heather's words make him imagine things?

“Of course I am! And since you need some cheering up, maybe you'd like to...”

The door squeaked and Rollie Guthrie entered the breakroom without knocking.

“Neal, do you have a moment?” he asked straight off.

Something that Neal couldn't identify flickered in Grace's eyes...was it displeasure? He swiftly dismissed the thought to focus on Rollie, as he picked up signs of distress under his usual affable behavior. The older doctor would never forget etiquette and not knock, unless he was quite distraught. The last time Neal had seen him in that state was just after Cole's sudden departure.

“Of course! What can I do for you?” 

“Actually...” he hesitated, glancing at Grace, and Neal understood that Rollie wanted to talk to him alone. “Your shift is over, isn't it? I wondered if you'd have time to grab a coffee.”

“I was about to go home, so why don't you drop by? We could catch up,” he proposed. 

As he said it, he realized how isolated from the ER crowd he had been since he changed jobs, in spite of his role of liaison. And how he missed them. Rollie was always the “good cop” to Leanne's “bad cop” during his own residency, someone who grounded him when he felt out of his depth. And he could do with such a presence right now...he might feel a bit less miserable then, he pondered, the idea that he wouldn't see Christa after shift swooping down on him with a vengeance.

“I was just saying hello on my way to visit my daughter,” Grace stated good-naturedly. Definitely, he must have imagined her displeasure. “So I'm going to take my leave.”

“Excellent,” Rollie smiled, his expression turning contrite when she gave him a look. “Forgive me! I was talking about Neal's idea, of course. I'm looking forward to seeing you again tonight, my dear Grace.”

“I'm looking forward to seeing you both,” she answered, all beaming again as she left.

As soon as she closed the door behind her, Rollie didn't bother to hide his concerned expression anymore.

“Is it that bad, Rollie?”

“I'm afraid so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are renewed, hell yeah!  
> 1x18 left me with two choices. Either Neal was a waffling emotional cheater, either he was oblivious of Grace hitting on him (as she blatantly did in their last scene together, with no respect for his relationship and no regard for another woman's feelings). Since I love Neal, and I love him above all for his integrity, I had to go with choice two.  
> This fic should have around eight chapters, but I don't dare to give a precise estimation because looking at my track record...Oops.  
> Thanks for reading !


	2. All by Myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rollie and Neal discuss Angus. Coincidentally, the other residents discuss Angus. But then Neal is home alone with his thoughts...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it's an update!  
> This fic needs lots of plotting and there will be medical cases so it needed a bit of research to be done, too. I'm sorry for the delay and thank you for your patience :)  
> Non beta-ed, please forgive any mistake you might find.

“Here.” 

Neal placed a cup of coffee in front of Rollie. They were sitting side by side in his open kitchen and for a brief instant he wasn't in his apartment in the spring of 2016 but transported eleven years back and he was perched on a tired leather barstool at the faded formica counter of a small dinner near Edgware Road Station.

_You're at the deep end of the pool, kiddo. Taking the leap is up to you._

“You could never get used to American coffee...I can't be sorry for it,” Rollie remarked with a large smile of appreciation at the full-flavored black beverage. “I still remember the face you made whenever you had one during shift, at the very beginning of your residency.”

“Mama and you were certainly entertained for a couple of weeks.” 

Rollie guffawed. “You were trying so hard to keep a straight face so as not to offend anyone.”

“Until I was told that no self-respecting American considered that dishwater served at Angels to be coffee either.”

“Jesse very much resented Mike for spoiling his innocent fun.”

“ _That's_ why he kept him on cleaning duty for a whole month?”

“Mike's ego needed a month of cleaning duty, but I reckon that it was an additional perk. Oh, and Jesse also knew that you were helping Mike behind his back whenever you had a minute,” the veteran doctor added with a sly smile.

And it had been the start of his friendship with Mike, whereas personality-wise they were night and day. Nostalgia filled Neal before he could block it. He missed the camaraderie, the solidarity, the teamwork that were inherent parts of the ER. Everything he'd never find in Surgery, kingdom of cutthroat lone wolves. 

Rollie had to sense his mood change, for he retrieved a serious face and tackled the heart of his concerns.

“I would really appreciate if you could keep what I'm going to tell you strictly between us...except for Mike, since it involves him,” he began.

“Mike has a problem?”

“By proxy...Angus isn't well.”

Neal darkened. “Still Heshman?”

The older doctor had a short hesitation. “That's when it started at least, yes. His behavior is more and more erratic. He was apathetic for a while, closed-off...”

“PTSD?”

He remembered Christa's worries when Angus ditched his therapy early on, and Mike's evasive denials that everything was fine.

“Certainly, but I feel that there's more to it. It's been a couple of weeks since he became overly confident...impatient, easily snapping at people, on edge. Only to retreat into his shell the following second. His mood swings are _unnatural_.”

Neal watched closely Rollie's face. He knew him enough to grasp the subtleties of his speech, and the stress he put on the last word was unmistakable. 

“You think he's...under influence?” he asked, cautious as to the terms he used, too. 

“I'm afraid so, yes. I'm not 100% certain, which is why I took no action so far. It isn't what worries me most, though. It would only be a symptom. It's the causes I don't understand.” 

After the death of his wife, Rollie spent 10 years volunteering in a free clinic for drug addicts. With his experience and since he was certain enough of his diagnosis to share it with someone, Neal didn't doubt that he was right. 

Frowning, he took a sip of coffee. “If they're in Angus's psyche, I'm not sure that I can help you. I didn't socialize much with him. You're the closest to him among the attendings.”

“Precisely. I _should_ know, and I don't. You see, Angus is way stronger than most people give him credit for.”

“Considering how he rescued Malaya, I can't but agree with you.”

“Yes, he didn't cower when so many would have in his stead. Then why is he so upset about the incident?”

_I can't believe we have to save this monster._

“He fought Heshman, he could only be conflicted that he had to treat him afterwards. He might feel guilty that he couldn't save him, might think he didn't do everything he should have,” Neal proposed. 

“I thought so, therefore I took Angus with me to his burial.”

Neal widened his eyes at first, but the reason quickly dawned on him. “You wanted to give him closure.”

“To no avail, it seems. And I can't but ask myself, why? Why would he feel so guilty that he'd grow self-destructive? He's a good boy, a sensible boy. He's used by now to blood and pain, and he showed courage under pressure. Heshman's wound being self-inflicted, Angus isn't even an indirect cause of his death. A couple of therapy sessions should have been enough for him to realize that no blame lays on him. He isn't even morally responsible.”

“I see...you're right, it doesn't make sense. Unless it triggered an older trauma?”

“I had the same idea and tried to talk to Mike. He brushed my concerns away, told me that his brother was fine.” 

“I have to admit that I fail to understand why Mike, who certainly knows a PTSD case when he sees one and loves his brother more than anything, is burying his head in the sand.”

Rollie's face lit with intense relief, revealing by contrast the depth of his anguish and prompting Neal to wonder fleetingly whether it reopened old wounds here, too. He couldn't imagine what it was, since Angus Leighton and Cole Guthrie were polar opposites. Still it was clear to him that Rollie had bonded with the former in a fatherly way, even beyond a status of mentor.

“You and Mike are friends whereas he still sees me first and foremost as his former superior...as an authority figure. He might be more talkative with you.”

“I'll try. I'm going to invite him to catch up and grab something to eat before shift tonight.” 

He already had his cell phone in hand, texted his friend. 

“Thank you. And I apologize for crossing the line of your privacy but maybe...maybe you could ask Dr Lorenson about what the residents...nevermind.”

_Are you asking as an attending or as a friend?_

“If the residents are covering for Angus, Christa is the last person you want to go to for answers. Believe me,” he advised as detachedly as he could.

He was aware he had been unable to hide his trouble upon the mention of her name and was thankful to his guest for pretending he didn't notice. Said guest gulped what was left of his coffee.

“Thank you again for your time, Neal. I'm glad that I can count on you since for obvious reasons, I didn't want to go to Leanne. At least not until I know what's really going on. And now I'll stop standing in the way of you catching some well-deserved sleep.”

“By the way, what does Jesse say about it?” the surgeon enquired as Rollie stood up. “He'd have been the first to notice, don't you think?”

“He was engrossed in the union issues and with the impending strike, he wasn't as present as usual. Moreover, tonight was his last shift before his two weeks off.”

“True...” 

Christa had mentioned Jesse's vacations on their last evening off, around a pizza and a glass of wine. His phone beeped, it was Mike's positive answer and Rollie's hopeful look at the news distracted Neal from the depressing idea that they might never have another dinner date.

“I'll keep you posted,” he promised, handing him his coat and seeing him to the door.

But once on the treshhold, rather than biding him goodbye, Rollie bore serious eyes into his.

“Kiddo, you always were the introvert. Did you talk to her? Tell her how you feel...what you feel for her, I mean?” he specified after giving him a look.

His teacher's stance was solemn, his gaze compassionate and knowing, and the use of his old nickname took Neal back once more. Caught off guard, he found himself both compelled to answer and unable to speak; so he simply shook his head. 

“You should. A few sincere words can't solve everything, but they can change everything. I wish I had known...” the old doctor finished sadly, squeezing his arm in commiseration.

On a last nod, he took his leave, and Neal watched him walking away as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

***

“Angus. On drugs. Angus on drugs and unraveling,” Christa summarized. 

Sitting on a kitchen chair in his living-room, Mario kept silent while her gaze traveled back and forth between him and Malaya, in the obvious expectation of a denial. 

When it didn't come, she went on, “Over the span of a few weeks? Adderall is highly and quickly addictive, but it isn't heroin...”

“It isn't heroin _yet_ ,” he warned before he could help himself, his lips thinned in a grim line.

He sustained Christa's intent stare. Next to her, Malaya jolted.

“What do you mean?”

“That's why I wanted to talk to you. Adderall isn't the problem. The reason why Angus takes Adderall is a problem.” 

“Still Heshman,” Christa sighed, passing a hand on the brunette's back. 

Mario initially intended to keep as few people in the know as possible. Yet after being miffed for a second because Malaya didn't check with him beforehand, he was freaking glad that Christa was in. She was one of them to start with and yes, she was dating an attending but first Hudson was Surgery now and second, Mario knew by experience where the blonde's loyalty would lie in case of conflict. Moreover she was often the middleman between him and the two others after he began to change his attitude and now more than ever, they needed someone to take over that role.  
He and Malaya weren't exactly what you could call close. They weren't even on friendly terms since she'd discovered his fling with Heather. It was only Angus's troubles that brought them together again. He was aware that his brutal honesty and deeply ingrained pessimism could only clash with Malaya's sensitivity and somewhat naivety. Heshman was a sore spot for them all and therefore a kind of taboo, a subject to be handled with utmost care. Beating around the bush for the sake of delicacy wasn't his forte by nature, and neither was offering comfort for lack of it during his formative years. Yet in this instance, Malaya would need both.  
Christa, on the opposite, had a knack of smoothing things over in spite of being sometimes at least as blunt as Mario was. Plus, she and Malaya were tight and it could only help.

“He refuses to talk about it with anyone, though, even with a shrink,” Christa added. “Do you have an idea of why it could affect him so much?”

“ _He_ was so crazy...” Malaya murmured, her eyes suddenly glassy. “His face, his voice...You weren't there, you can't understand...”

Christa drew her friend in her arms like a mother would hold her child, while throwing him a meaningful glance. Indeed, it was a matter they'd have to discuss in Malaya's absence. Her wounds were still too raw.

“I don't get what he has but there's more important: However it affects him, Angus chose substances to deal with it, so he will need some as long as it affects him. And he'll take whatever he'll find.”

“So we actually made it worse by ensuring that Heather doesn't provide him with Adderall anymore?” Malaya exclaimed, jumping on her feet. 

“I thought that he'd want help. He didn't and until he gets there, he'll go on solving his issues by taking stuff.”

“And by 'stuff' you don't mean booze or joints, right? You're thinking hard stuff? Oh my God, we shouldn't have...”

Here it was, she was stressing out and feeling guilty and now he was stressing out and feeling guilty, and an exasperated remark was finding its way to the tip of his tongue...

“No, you did well,” Christa intervened, taking Malaya's hand and tugging gently on it. “It wouldn't be good for Angus if he lost his job.”

Thank you, Mario thought once more as the emotional storm passed by. He could feel his head cooling down while Malaya sat back on the relic of the 80's also known as his couch and visibly relaxed.

“He didn't steal prescriptions himself, but he would have been considered an accomplice, and needless to say that his drug use would have been discovered, if Heather Pinkney didn't manage to thwart Campbell.”

Malaya acquiesced at first, but Heather's name was like a red cape to a bull with her and she was rolling her eyes by the time Christa finished her sentence.

“You sound as if she deserves a gold star. Wasn't she the arsonist fireman here?”

Mario bit his lip. The spite in her voice bothered him, which bothered him in turn. Why would he feel the need to jump in Heather's defense? He wasn't her boyfriend, he wasn't even her friend, he wasn't responsible for her. She was a user, in every meaning of the word, so why would he care? 

_You. don't. care_ , he inwardly scolded himself, clasping his tongue in annoyance. He caught Christa's sharp blue stare on him. He wondered what she saw, hoped it wasn't too much. Not that there was anything to see since again, he _didn't_ care.

“Actually,” she began, eluding Malaya's question, “this prescription deal is the first thing we need to talk about if we want to help Angus.”

“Even Heather won't be stupid enough to go on stealing now,” her friend sneered.

“And let's hope that Angus isn't stupid enough to try,” he sighed. “But if only out of self-preservation, Heather will probably see that he doesn't.” 

“I agree with you, but I wasn't talking about the future. If, as you two told me, Heather forced Campbell to admit publicly to a mistake that wasn't one, this story is far from over. Anybody in his place would want to prove they were right. It's even worse in Campbell's case since he's an egotist, a bully, and a vindictive one at that. He's going to strike back, no matter the damages.” 

“He'll have no qualms about taking Angus down with her,” Mario deduced somberly.

“What can we do, then?” Malaya asked. To his relief, this time she sounded more determined than panicky.

“Do you know how she forced Campbell to fold?”

He shook his head in answer to Christa. “She wouldn't tell me.”

“We need to know, though, because we need to know if it's reliable. If Angus's job is safe.”

“She seemed absolutely certain it was.”

“It's _Heather Pinkney_ ,” Malaya intervened, her voice dripping with acid. “The one who led Angus on and hooked him on drugs, while she was sleeping with you behind his back _and_ with Campbell behind yours. I'd say she isn't the poster girl for trustworthy.”

Christa didn't seem to be aware of the romantic complications of the whole thing, but to her credit she only widened her eyes for a second.

“Once we're certain that Angus won't be booted out of the program because of what happened so far,” she stated before tension could escalate again, “we can focus on trying to help him with his addiction. So we need to deal with that girl.”

“She'll refuse to talk to me,” Mario admitted. “Whenever I tried, she wouldn't give me any answer.”

“I can't talk to her,” Malaya shrugged. “She knows I hate her guts.”

Christa sighed. “I don't know her personally, maybe it'll make things easier...”

“And you can drop by Surgery without drawing suspicions, everybody will think you're there for Hudson...”

Mario broke off as Christa's face took a noncommittal expression. Malaya gave him a discreet shake of the head. Ah, fuck.

“I can talk to her, but I'd rather avoid Surgery,” the blonde provided in the even tone that he referred to in his head as “the mask”. “Also, I doubt she'll be keen on discussing the matter alone with a complete stranger. She might think I'm sent by Campbell. We should both be there.”

She was right, he should have thought of it first. Heather didn't trust or confide easily; moreover he remembered how paranoid he could get, back then when he was using.

“She's on the board tonight. I'll arrange for us to meet before shift.”

“And to help Angus, concretely, what?” Malaya wondered aloud. “I know that an addict who doesn't want help can't be helped. But there must be something useful we can do, right?”

Both women were looking at him now. All of them had studied the effects and treatment of addiction but it seemed that he was the only one here with practical experience. Far from offending him, it gave him the weird feeling to belong. Being trusted and relied upon by someone else than a patient was new and strangely heartwarming.

“Yes. We can ensure that he doesn't take anything on the job, at least. Christa is right, a suspension or a dismissal is the worst thing that could happen to him in his state. So we'll have to shadow him as much as we can. Stay with him during breaks including bathroom breaks, and yeah the latter will be my job, make sure he doesn't disappear somewhere to use, watch him like milk on the fire whenever he manipulates drugs and above all keep him away from Pharmacy. Mike will be handy on this last one.”

“Well, if he's more helpful than he was with therapy...” Malaya let her voice trail omninously.

“Yeah, I can't wrap my head around this one either. He knows that his brother is an addict, so why doesn't he insist he goes to a shrink?”

“It is weird,” Christa approved of, “but very often Mike acts more like Angus's father than his brother. Sometimes, a parent can acknowledge the truth but refuse or even be unable to accept it.”

She sounded slightly wistful and Mario wondered why for a second, but her words begged for his attention. He had never considered the situation under such an angle. Of course, there was very little he knew about either side of a father/son relationship. But it could be it, indeed, and it would explain Mike's pigheaded attitude.

“We'll have to talk to him, too, anyway,” he concluded.

“I'll catch him just before shift, while you're with Heather Pinkney,” Malaya offered. 

Mario was quite glad she did. She was the only one Mike wouldn't tell off, since Angus's state was linked to her aggression. 

“Sounds like a plan,” Christa nodded. She stood up as their fellow resident stiffled a yawn. “And now, Malaya, it's time for me to drive you home.”

“ If Heather answers me, I'll text you before I leave for shift,” he announced.

Malaya's eyes clouded at the “if” and for once, he realized, they were on the same wavelength. Unfortunately, a negative one. What if Heather didn't answer, what if Mike was unreceptive, what if... 

“Angus will make it,” Christa asserted. 

She didn't let go of Malaya's hand and she grabbed his. His stress immediately ebbed.

It was so strange to feel comforted. 

“We'll make sure he does,” he underlined, reaching for Malaya's other hand and completing the circle before he had time to realize what he was doing.

Her hazelnut gaze cleared, hope replacing doubt.

It was so simple to comfort.

***

Catch some sleep...easier said than done.

Neal was restless. He looked inside his fridge for ten minutes and closed it without finding anything he could stomach. He took a shower and it might have refreshed his mind as well as his body unless he noticed Christa's shampoo bottle on the tablet and a pair of earrings forgotten next to the sink. He opened his computer and Skype. It was evening in the UK, maybe chatting with old friends or one of his siblings would do him good. He stared at the screen for a minute before switching his status to unavailable. He wasn't in the mood to talk with anyone.

He decided to drink another coffee, aware that sleep would elude him anyway. He was pouring it when his phone buzzed, his heart leapt. He couldn't fight utter disappointment upon discovering that it was a text from Grace. She asked him if everything was all right, he answered by a laconic _Yes, thank you_. No, he wasn't in the mood to talk with anyone, except with the one person he knew wouldn't contact him. 

So he ended up pacing in his living room, the events of the day replaying mercilessly in his head, Rollie's voice echoing above the maelstrom.

Tell Christa what he felt for her? 

He knew what he felt for her, he had always known. It was his only certainty. Everything else was a complete and utter mess...

...starting with his decision last night that might have cost a man his life, and left a widow and four orphans. Four kids without a father, because he screwed-up. 

In Center Stage, he had been certain that his motivation was only medical. Now, he wasn't so sure and it scared him.

He had made dozens, hundreds, thousands of such decisions as an emergency doctor. Sometimes he had been right, sometimes he had been wrong. But since he became an attending, since he began teaching, he was 100% positive that no personal feelings or external pressure had ever interferred with his choices...except when the choice wasn't about medicine but about following Leanne in one of her cowboy stunts, of course.

In the ER, he knew what he was doing. Always. Even though every case was different, he was familiar with the risks, mastered the ways of limiting them or of dealing with worst-case scenarios. He knew his own boundaries, where healing stopped and playing God began. If he had to face the same situation as an ER attending, he would have recognized whether he could save one or both patients and whom he should prioritize without hesitation. In Surgery he had no true practicing experience, no idea of his abilities or limitations. He was all at sea. 

So if his knowledge wasn't enough, if he couldn't rely on medical science only, did he unconsciously let other considerations dictate his conclusion?

He remembered thinking in a flash that Grace being more seasoned, she might have a better understanding of her patient's condition; and then nixing the idea because he believed in Christa's judgment and instinct. 

Christa. 

Losing a patient always hit her so hard. Still she involved everytime, never sparing herself in the process. He admired her for it, wondered where she found that strength. Of course she had learned to compartimentalize, to absorb the blow, to leave it all within the walls of the hospital, but every person she couldn't save made a tiny crack in her heart. It slayed him that he was responsible for one.

Remembering their conversation in the corridor later last night, he realized that he had been wrong in his previous assumption. She was convinced that his decision was medical and it had nothing to do with her putting the brakes on their relationship. Otherwise, she'd have pointed it out or been upset instead of calmly asking him if he could find a moment for her patient. It was little solace, though, since he might not deserve her trust.

If his personal feelings had played a role in the process...

If he gave priority to Grace's patient because he let financial and political considerations influence him, if he chose a VIP over a janitor, he was a failure as a doctor and as a human being. 

If he gave priority to Grace's patient out of guilt, because whatever he felt for her he loved Christa more and she was the one he...

 _More_ ?

He passed his hands over his face. How could he _even_...

The muted ring of a Skype call tore him out of his self-loathing. It was probably his father, he was the only one who would try to contact him regardless of his unavailability. 

Reading the caller ID, he frowned. Grace? 

He hesitated. But after what happened with Christa, and what he just realized...

He took a deep, cleansing breath to brace himself, clicked, and Grace appeared onscreen. She was in Roseline's hospital room. He could make out the little girl asleep in her bed, in the background.

 _Hey, sorry. I'm aware you don't feel like talking,_ she began before he could say anything. _But I'm worried about you._

“Thanks, but there's no need. I'll be all right.”

_Come on, Neal. It's me. I know you. I know how important your integrity is to you. I also know for a fact that you did what you thought was right. And you did make the good choice._

He stared at her. She was the same Grace he used to know and love. High-handed, with but well-meaning. 

“The janitor's family would disagree. But I'm grateful for your support,” he smiled sincerely.

She replied with the same charming, a tad coquettish grin that used to put him in all kind of states. 

_I also wanted to tell you...I'm sorry if I caused you trouble. I didn't imagine that my return would disturb your life as much as it did, and I...Neal? Neal? Are you OK?_

The alarmed edge to her voice snapped him out of his sudden daze.

“Yes, sorry. I know you didn't mean any trouble, you don't have to apologize. Listen, I have a lot on my mind, a lot to figure out and I'm completely exhausted. I have to go. But I'm glad you called.”

 _Great._ Her smile was relieved now, even brighter, exactly like when they cheered each other up after a difficult shift. _I'm glad you answered. See you tonight then._

He bid her goodbye and clicked to end the conversation.

Then he took his head between his hands, leaned forward until his elbows rested on his thighs, and breathed out slowly as he let tension exit him.

Before Grace's call, he had been hitting rock bottom. Now he couldn't remember feeling as relieved, as liberated in his whole life.

He didn't love Christa _more_. 

He loved Christa _only_.

What an idiot he had been.

Upon her return Grace was convinced that he was still in love with her. And Christa suspected that he might still be in love with Grace.  
Once the latter's presence stopped being an unpleasant reminder of his rejected proposal and a failed relationship, his past fondness for her and their past closeness had surfaced again.  
With his habit to second-guess himself, somewhere in the corners of his mind, he began to wonder.

Yet he had always known deep inside that first choice or second choice, it didn't matter. Christa wouldn't accept to stay with him if he had the slightest romantic inclination for another. She was too uncompromising when it came to such matters.  
As for himself, he firmly believed that if you had feelings for two women, you truly loved none. 

Hence he had buried his head in the sand for weeks. 

He wanted to be with Christa, he didn't want to be a lowlife who waffled between two women, he didn't want his life to be more in shambles than it already was. So he bottled up everything, closed-off emotionally and sank into such a state of denial that he wasn't even aware of it.

His head reeling from the discovery, he plopped down on his bed. 

The shock of Christa leaving him had prompted him to open his eyes, and when Grace skyped him he realized he had nothing to lose. So he finally faced Grace and what he felt for her. He let his emotions run free, let affection and nostalgia come over him...and found out there was nothing else.

He didn't find the slightest hint of physical desire. Nothing like his past infatuation with her. Nothing remotely akin to his love for Christa. 

Christa, only Christa, always Christa.

He slid under the sheets, hoping that he'd be able to sleep now that he found an answer. Yet on the contrary, little by little he came down from his high and restlessness overwhelmed him again.

_A few sincere words can't solve everything..._

He used to enjoy the soothing silence and the vast space of his loft, a welcome relief after a shift in the cramped and crowded world of the hospital. Today it seemed only cold, void and lonely, and Christa's perfume still floating in the air only made her absence more glaring. It was the first time he went home without her since the day of the inquiry and he didn't know how he'd manage to bear it.  
He missed her smile, her voice, the way her gaze lit when she joked, missed their after shift discussions, missed cooking and sharing meals with her, missed the way she stroked his hair after they made love, missed the warmth of her body when she slept next to him, missed every single thing about her. He rolled over, buried his head in her pillow, inhaled her scent and let it soothe him. 

_...but they can change everything._

Rollie was right. 

He should talk to Christa. He should have, but it wasn't too late. Tomorrow, he thought. Tomorrow morning after shift, he'd clear everything he could. He could be honest with her at long last; he could tell her the one truth he knew. Tell her that he loved her, needed her, couldn't live without her. Tell her that they couldn't end like this, and she'd come back to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You were ready to throttle me at one point during Neal's last POV, weren't you? I'd never play such a dirty trick :)  
> Thank you SO much for the kudos and the comments left on my other fics. It is much, much appreciated. I thought I'd better update first and answer to them later, but I will :)  
> I know I have another Christeal work in progress, and part of its last chapter is written. I'm not giving up on any of my fics. If life stops getting in the way and lets me breathe a bit, an update should come in a matter of weeks. And another little something will be up before that.  
> Next chapter: Christa and Mario confront Heather, Christa has to deal with a difficult case and someone makes it more difficult for her, and things don't go as easy as Neal hoped. Not at all.  
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Can you keep a secret? (Shift One)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Christa and Mario confront Heather about Angus, Neal tries to talk to Mike and drops by the ER...Just before shift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the first two chapters of introduction and set-up, this story will be built like a succession of three episodes/shifts, including medical cases. Hence the “Shift One” here after the chapter title.  
> Non beta-ed, please forgive any mistake you might find.

Mario glanced around, quite uneasy with getting sucked back into use-related lies after so many years of peace. Freeing himself from his repressed guilt, self-loathing and constant paranoia had been the big, immediate pro of newfound sobriety. Moreover, the Heather factor complicated matters. He wasn't certain as to why she accepted to meet him on the rooftop before shift or what she expected, but as soon as she discovered Christa standing next to him, her cautious stance turned downright rebellious.

“Oh, so you called Big Sis to the rescue,” she mocked in place of a greeting, her red hair almost black in the fading light of dusk. “Are you here to lecture the bad bad girl who hooked Baby Bro on drugs?” 

“Angus is an adult, he makes his own choices,” Christa shrugged, following her lead and skipping the niceties. “There's no point crying over spilled milk.”

Heather's lack of immediate comeback was a hint that she was getting a crash course on what Mario learned rather early on. Christa was kind and doe-like until all of a sudden she was detached, borderline harsh, and in summary all but the goodie-two-shoes many mistook her for at first glance.

“Nevertheless, your stealing prescriptions is another busi...”

“Oh, you're going for libel now? Dr Campbell admitted to making a mistake.”

“Precisely. We don't want Angus caught in the crossfire when Campbell's going to gun for you.”

Talking about guns, Christa's dry shot hit the bull's-eye. Did she notice, too, that Heather winced? The latter recovered fast, though, her voice all suave sarcasm again.

“No, you wouldn't want your dear friend to be in trouble. More than he already is, of course.”

“Indeed, we can't have that. And now would be time for you to play it smart instead of trying to play it cool,” Christa scolded. Mario mentally added “young lady” at the end of her sentence and was pretty sure that Heather did as well. “If you fall, Angus falls. It makes us the only ones around unwilling to throw you under the first bus.”

“And what do you expect from me?”

That question said it all. Under her bravado, she was afraid of her superior's retaliation. Christa had read Heather right, probably helped by whatever Hudson must have shared with her about his experience in Surgery. 

“First, we need you to talk to Angus. He doesn't listen to Mario, Malaya or Mike. Convince him at least to stop taking stuff on the job. It's in your own interest,” Christa stressed. “Campbell's going to sniff around for drug use. And if Angus falls...you see my drift.”

“I do, yeah.” Heather's tone lost some bite. “I already warned him, but I'll try to drive a nail into the matter again. You said 'first', so I guess there's something else?”

“Tell us how you got Campbell to relent. Are you absolutely certain that he can't turn the tables on you?”

Heather raised a brow but looked into her cellphone without protest, her lips quirking in a wicked smirk as she held it up to reveal an explicit picture of her and her boss.

“I thought that you, of all people, would have reckoned. You didn't take a little insurance with the attending you're sleeping with?”

Mario couldn't remember the last time he was embarrassed by something sexual. Come to think of it, he had never been embarrassed by anything sexual in his adult life. Yet here he was, in need of some brain bleach. Heather in bed with Campbell was mortifying enough, but the idea of Christa and Hudson in the same situation would be the equivalent of...of watching porn with his grandmother. 

“Not my generation,” the blonde retorted without batting an eyelash.

Heather didn't expect such a reaction either and of course, she had to brag like a bratty child in order to pretend she wasn't impressed. 

“Is that disapproval I hear in your voice? Are you going to lecture me about fake claims? How dare I, when I wasn't abused...” 

She broke off when Christa crossed her arms on her chest and bored her eyes into hers. Mario didn't get what she meant, but Heather sure did. 

“Now you know. Happy? I'll talk to Angus,” she threw over her shoulder, before slamming the door behind her.

***

Their early dinner was drawing to a close, and Neal was beginning to think he wouldn't be able to keep his promise to Rollie. 

He had planned to avoid the hospital's surroundings, so that he could broach the delicate subject of Angus' issues without risking they were overheard, but Mike had to drop by his office in order to sign some urgent paperwork. Without notice, of course, so they had no time to go far and ended up at Hector's. Worse, they hadn't been in for five minutes that Hannah and two other nurses on the ER rotation settled one table away from them. 

Well, of course, a friendly meal with a fellow survivor of the Rorish School of ER Medicine was more than welcome. Since his epiphany of the morning, his mood had been wavering between his resolve that he couldn't lose Christa, and a dim nervousness because he _couldn't_ lose Christa. He needed his mind taken off his sentimental woes.

For obvious reasons, his job wouldn't do the trick, so it was as well that they touched only briefly upon his adaptation to Surgery. Mike seemed more keen on discussing his own department, although he skimmed over his relationships with his colleagues and subordinates. It surprised Neal a bit, and he had an inkling that it might be deliberate. Did the ER doctor hear some of those rumors about Grace, which Heather alluded to? Did he know about Christa breaking up with him? Mike had a provocative streak but he was loyal. It would be quite like him too avoid mentioning something truly hurtful to a friend.

Anyway, instead of delving into their respective situations, they joked about Leanne's ordeal as the new guardian of rules and regulations...  
_“Jesse greeted her singing the Law and Order theme? Get out!”_  
_“Cross my heart! Hey, maybe you surgeons should try with Campbell and the Jaws theme...” _  
_“We already do, but only in our heads.”_ __

____

____

...they waged on who of the power suits people would kill the other first. Or at least, they tried to...  
_“We can't both bet on Leanne, or it isn't a bet.”_  
_“Well, you're free to put your money Harbert, Neal. You're the one who said he might stand a chance, after all.”_

...then Mike filled him in on how the new director managed to turn the tables on the board and found the money for the nurses. They lamented Taylor's departure, kind of...  
_“I didn't think I'd ever regret him...”_  
_“Not as much as Leanne does, I'm sure.”_  
_“Or as Harbert will...”_

____...and it led them to reminisce their crazy days as residents, when the ex-director nicknamed their group the Three Musketeers of Doom. Which reminded Neal..._ _ _ _

____“By the way, did you hear about Karen?” he inquired._ _ _ _

____Mike's phone beeped before he had time to answer. He checked the screen, and he swore._ _ _ _

____“Bloody paperwork. It seems I had to sign a second copy of that freaking document. Except they forgot to give me that second copy. Sorry, can we go?”_ _ _ _

____After a decade of code blacks, they ate fast out of habit and their plates had long been emptied._ _ _ _

____“Fifteen minutes before shift, it's more or less time anyway,” Neal sighed, signaling for the bill._ _ _ _

____It was already dark when they exited on the almost deserted street. Neal stretched out his arms. There was a nice little breeze blowing, with a touch of warmth announcing spring. Traffic was unusually low, and they set out for Angels Memorial in an amicable silence. Should he speak now? He mulled over the timing, but came to a decision when it occurred to him that Mike might be evasive about his job because of his brother's troubles. Maybe he needed help and couldn't ask since it would amount to exposing Angus in the process._ _ _ _

____“And how are the current residents doing?”_ _ _ _

____It could have passed for an innocent question. Unfortunately, it wasn't his style to go round in circles when he had something to ask. Diplomacy was his forte, not manipulation, and he heard the awkward note in his own voice. Mike threw him a questioning glance. Ah. He had picked up on his tone, too, but misunderstood it: He wondered if Neal wished to talk about his relationship with Christa._ _ _ _

____The surgeon shook his head. “Just asking in general. I taught them, too, after all.”_ _ _ _

____“Well, then you know they're a good crop. Maybe nearly as good as we were. Circumstances made I worked more often with Savetti at first, and then of course I paid extra attention to Malaya. So I'm planning on having a closer look at Christa now...not that kind of look, don't worry!” he held up his hands in mock innocence. “You have any pointer?”_ _ _ _

____Of course, for all thoughtful he could be, Mike could never resist the temptation of a good zinger. Yet it somehow reassured Neal that his old friend, at the very least, was aware of whom he loved._ _ _ _

____“Never underestimate Christa's instincts,” he advised, ignoring the bait. Instead, he seized the opportunity. “And your brother? Did you already evaluate him?”_ _ _ _

____Mike lifted a brow._ _ _ _

____“Angus is doing fine. He's gaining confidence.”_ _ _ _

____His tone was way too casual, and even more jarring was the subtle sharp edge to it which intimated, “don't go there”._ _ _ _

____So there _was_ something wrong with Angus._ _ _ _

____They stopped before the crosswalk in front of Angels Memorial's main entrance._ _ _ _

____“Mike...”_ _ _ _

____“Neal...” the other mimicked, exaggerating his serious tone._ _ _ _

____He probably planned that his deriding attitude would prompt Neal to stop there. It usually would have. In this particular instance, it had the reverse effect. Mike didn't want him to butt in what he saw as a family matter, he understood. But it wasn't only a family matter, since Angus practiced medicine every day. Moreover, the childish reaction to his obvious concern hit a nerve._ _ _ _

____“Cut the crap, will you?”_ _ _ _

____“Huh?”_ _ _ _

____The light turned green for pedestrians. He briefly grabbed Mike's arm to hold him back._ _ _ _

____“Come on. Angus hasn't been fine since Heshman.”_ _ _ _

____His friend's smile twisted into a scornful grimace, his blue eyes hardened like ice shards, his hands fisted in contained anger. It didn't deter Neal and, after he ensured there was no one they knew in their direct vicinity, he carried on._ _ _ _

____“Rollie thinks he knows what he has, and if he's right, your brother needs all the help he can get...”_ _ _ _

____“So, your invitation was an ambush?”_ _ _ _

____“An ambush? I'm not the enemy.”_ _ _ _

____“Really? Then why are you trying to ruin my brother's life?”_ _ _ _

____Neal didn't need more to confirm that not only Rollie was right about Angus' addiction, he was also right about Mike's weird defensiveness. Something was _very_ wrong here._ _ _ _

____“What's going to ruin your brother's life, eventually, is his using. But first, he's going to ruin his career.”_ _ _ _

____Weirder still, he could have sworn that for a millisecond, Mike's face expressed relief._ _ _ _

____“Providing anything comes to light. Unless, of course, someone rats him out.”_ _ _ _

____The surgeon would have been offended by the insinuation unless, in spite of his aggressive stance, Mike's tone of voice lacked conviction. He was perfectly aware that if Neal wouldn't allow a drug addict to endanger patients, he wouldn't blow the whistle without giving them a chance to get clean first.  
The jab was a knee-jerk reaction, since protectiveness was the core element of his relationship with his little brother. He was like a wolf defending his cub, indeed. Against what, exactly? It was probably the key to his strange behavior._ _ _ _

____“You're fooling yourself if you think you can keep this a secret,” he pointed calmly instead of responding in kind. “Rollie already guessed. Can't you realize how lucky you were that Angus wasn't caught yet? Leanne busy with her new job, dealing with Harbert and embroiled in financial issues, Jesse busy with the nurses' strike, and now on holidays for two weeks...Talking about Jesse, how long do you think he'll need to find out, once he's back? Two days, three? I bet you he'll have it figured it out after one shift.”_ _ _ _

____Mike flinched._ _ _ _

____“Leanne is no fool either,” Neal reminded him. “She trusts Angus. She trusts you, she chose you as her successor. She won't lift a finger for either of you if she discovers you lied to her. I'm serious, Mike. Angus will lose his job, maybe his medical license, and you could lose yours as well if you cover for him.”_ _ _ _

____“We're doctors. We're supposed to help addicts.”_ _ _ _

____“We're not supposed to let them treat patients under influence, and I'm afraid that's all the board will see once the truth is out. Even your father won't be able to save your brother's head.”_ _ _ _

____“My father won't try to save his head...” he retorted, and he broke off on a curse._ _ _ _

____Familiar with the Leighton family dynamics, for they had so often commiserated about their fathers, Neal finished his sentence for him. “But he'll try to save yours. And no matter what happens, he'll blame Angus. It will be yet another blow to your brother's self-esteem. One more reason to look for solace in his addiction.”_ _ _ _

____“Thanks for spelling it out. You think I don't know?”_ _ _ _

____Mike's sarcasm was more gloomy than angry. It meant that finally, he was ready to talk._ _ _ _

____“I'm your friend, not the enemy,” Neal repeated. “Neither is Rollie. He's truly worried about Angus. I'm worried, too, and I want to help you. You'd think I'd get involved in such a matter otherwise?”_ _ _ _

____There was a long moment of silence, then, out of the blue, his colleague cackled._ _ _ _

____“I bet you wouldn't,” he conceded, and added with a sly grin, “Your inner boy scout must have fought hard against your inner British gentleman.”_ _ _ _

____Neal shook his head, guffawed. The storm had passed and, on the same wavelength again, they crossed the road._ _ _ _

____“Adderall. Nothing else.”_ _ _ _

____“Many students take it like caffeine. But it isn't as manageable as they think and you know it can lead to more.”_ _ _ _

____Especially if using was a symptom of some deeper issues and obviously, it was the case here. Mike wouldn't have been so upset otherwise._ _ _ _

____“I know that, too.”_ _ _ _

____“Then why isn't Angus back in counseling? Why don't you accept help, if you don't manage on your own?” he added sympathetically, after his first question was greeted with a shrug._ _ _ _

____“Hey, I only discovered it yesterday...”_ _ _ _

____Neal frowned. It didn't fit what Rollie told him._ _ _ _

____“...but I've thought this through since, and I have a solution to make him quit at least on the job. For starters,” he cut off quickly before Neal could object. “Listen, you want to help? Convince Rollie to stay out of my family business. I've got this. As of today, Angus will be clean during shifts.”_ _ _ _

____He seemed quite confident, all defensiveness or hostility gone. They were jogging up the stairs, now was time to end the discussion anyway._ _ _ _

____“OK, but don't forget you aren't alone,” Neal concluded._ _ _ _

____“Same goes, if you need help. I mean, if you need take down some moron from Surgery, preferably Campbell. As for your other problem, I don't encourage monogamous relationships and I won't make an exception even for a pal,” Mike smirked as they arrived in the lobby. “On the other hand, if you come to your senses and need a wingman...”_ _ _ _

____Neal sighed, this was a small retaliation. Mention my issues, I'll mention yours. He grinned, though, since he had the perfect comeback._ _ _ _

____“Thanks, but I shouldn't need one. Maybe a best man, one day.”_ _ _ _

____If I'm lucky, he added mentally, trying to find Christa among the people already there. They wouldn't have enough time to talk right now, of course. No matter how impatient he was to try and clear the misunderstanding between them, he could only ask her to meet him later._ _ _ _

____Angus was checking his phone, hopefully it wasn't for a message from his dealer, Grace exited the corridor leading to the locker room with a huge smile on her face, probably she received good news about Roseline. She was chatting with a senior nurse whose red hair was too flaming to be natural at her age and who sported a respectable pot belly. Neal had never seen her before but he guessed she was Jesse's replacement..._ _ _ _

____“Yeah, you don't need any encouragement anyway,” the chief resident rolled his eyes._ _ _ _

____Malaya showed up on Grace's heels, and she headed in their direction. Neal waved goodbye to his friend. He'd prefer to see Christa alone if possible, maybe she was still in the locker room? The young resident would know, but before he could address her she passed by him with a vague greeting, her gaze a little bit absent or concerned, maybe._ _ _ _

____“Malaya,” he called her._ _ _ _

____She spun round, her expression polite. “Yes, Neal?”_ _ _ _

____He cleared his throat, fighting off a sudden slight embarrassment. “I wondered, has Christa arrived yet?”_ _ _ _

____Her face closed at once, and she turned her back on him without an answer._ _ _ _

____Neal stood there, blinking, watching her stalk away until she caught up with Mike in front of his office. Whatever she told him made him frown, and he ushered her inside._ _ _ _

____***_ _ _ _

____“I didn't think it'd work out so well,” Mario remarked, feeling cautiously optimistic as they were taking the service stairs back to the ER._ _ _ _

____“For Angus, yes. I hope so. For Heather...”_ _ _ _

____Christa made a face._ _ _ _

____“Nah, we're good here. You chose the right angle. I wouldn't trust her, but it's in her interest to work with us.”_ _ _ _

____“That's not what I meant.”_ _ _ _

____Which was exactly what he feared._ _ _ _

____“Yeah, I've heard stories about Campbell, too. But with what she has on him, she has nothing to fear,” he shrugged, in a show of indifference that was a work of art._ _ _ _

____As if Christa was going to be deterred easily._ _ _ _

____“Her blackmail protects Heather from being reported for stealing prescriptions. She can't use it for anything less, or she loses her job. Campbell knows it, and she knows it. He's going to make her life here a nightmare. He isn't demanding the way Leanne is. He's a bully.”_ _ _ _

____“You reap what you sow.”_ _ _ _

____She didn't cross her arms this time, but her glance at him conveyed her point._ _ _ _

____“She's trouble,” he argued._ _ _ _

___“She's troubl _ed_ .” _ _ _

____“Why would it be my business?”_ _ _ _

____“Why do you need to ask?” she replied gently._ _ _ _

____His recovery had taught Mario one thing: You do not repress what you feel, unless you want it to destroy you. So after the bomb that Angus dropped yesterday about his attitude towards Heather opened his eyes, and a short attempt at denial as a defense mechanism, he admitted it a couple of hours ago, looking at his reflection in his bathroom mirror. Yes, he cared._ _ _ _

____He had hoped he could keep it to himself until he healed from what had to be temporary insanity, but there was no point resisting Christa in big sister mode. She looked at you with her big baby blue eyes, and you were prey to a nearly irresistible impulse to spill your guts to her._ _ _ _

____“Yeah, go figure.”_ _ _ _

____Yet, that he more or less fessed up didn't mean he was ready or even wanted to explore the matter._ _ _ _

____“But you, Lorenson, why would you care? Did you forget the part where she hooked Angus on Adderall?”_ _ _ _

____“She didn't point a gun to his head.”_ _ _ _

____He stopped in his tracks._ _ _ _

____“Listen. I do love Angus but no, I didn't lie to Heather. She might have offered the first pill. He made the decision to take it and now that he's offered help, he makes the decision to refuse it. I won't pretend that what she did endeared her to me...and as much as it pains me to admit it, no matter how I disapprove of his ways, Campbell is entitled to want her out. She did steal.”_ _ _ _

____“But?”_ _ _ _

____“But drug addiction is a disease, and I'm a doctor. So from where I'm standing, Heather is sick and it goes against my oath give up on her without giving her one chance to heal.”_ _ _ _

____She gazed straight into his eyes and he was pretty sure he wasn't going to like what would follow._ _ _ _

____“I know that Malaya doesn't see things like this. I'm sure that Mike won't, either. Yet if Heather asked for help, or if someone who cares decided to help her, they could count on me.”_ _ _ _

____Nope, he didn't like it. At all. He swore, kicked an imaginary football, and sat down on the steps. She sat down next to him._ _ _ _

____“She's a user, in every meaning of the term. I know it. I know her kind. I'm not some wide-eyed romantic idiot. It wasn't a relationship, we weren't even friends. It was just sex, no strings attached...So _why_ , why can't I write her off? ” he finished angrily._ _ _ _

____“Well, you're an addict. She's an addict. Maybe that's why you sympathize,” Christa offered._ _ _ _

____Yeah, he wished things were that simple._ _ _ _

____“I couldn't even give her up for my friend.”_ _ _ _

____Christa frowned and remembering his conversation with Malaya, he felt compelled to explain._ _ _ _

____“I didn't know that Angus had a crush on her until it was too late. As soon as I realized it, I broke things off. But I couldn't stick to it. I was unable to resist my attraction. I hated myself for it, I really did and still...”_ _ _ _

____“You know, you're kind of describing an addiction here...” she remarked, her tone a bit hesitant._ _ _ _

____He gaped at her, dumbstruck._ _ _ _

____She was fucking. bloody. right._ _ _ _

____“See...when I joined the program, pressure prompting me to use again was my biggest fear. I was almost surprised that I never had the slightest urge,” he spoke slowly, following his own train of thought. “But maybe I just replaced actual poison by another...by a toxic relationship, at the very least.”_ _ _ _

____“You broke up with her, though?”_ _ _ _

____“Not until I realized she was also sleeping with Campbell...” he derided, swallowing back the feeling of betrayal. “And yet, here I am.”_ _ _ _

____“Life would be much easier if we could control whom we want,” she mused, with a hint of wistfulness._ _ _ _

____She bit her lip, got on her feet._ _ _ _

____“Well, let's not be late. Vacations or not, Jesse will find out eventually if we are.”_ _ _ _

____He laughed but quickly, his ideas turned dark again and he didn't even answer. He realized it as they were almost downstairs, and she patted lightly his shoulder. The way she did so often with Malaya. Her best friend here._ _ _ _

____“He doesn't want her, you know,” he found himself blurting out the following second._ _ _ _

____She stilled. No need to ask who “he” was._ _ _ _

____“Thanks.”_ _ _ _

____Christa didn't believe him, and he didn't know what the hell came into him to insist, but he did all the same._ _ _ _

____“Listen, I'm a guy. I can tell when another guy wants to jump someone. And I can tell when Hudson, specifically, wants to jump someone. Because I've seen him with you. Ugh. I don't know what was worse, his puppy in love stares or his eye-fucking you...”_ _ _ _

____He cringed with embarrassment. Here was why he usually didn't do the friends thing. Why did he do the friends thing this time around? He didn't know how to do the friends thing. He was completely out of his depth._ _ _ _

____“Anyway, he doesn't look at her like that at all,” he concluded hastily, and quite lamely._ _ _ _

____Christa didn't seem to mind. She still didn't believe him and thought he was merely trying to be loyal, it was quite blatant. But her soft smile made him forget to snap that he was only stating facts, for fuck's sake._ _ _ _

____“Mario Savetti...are you trying to be sweet with your very own brand of crude?”_ _ _ _

____“I'm not sweet,” he retorted, thankful that she chose humor over emotion. He was much more at ease with bickering._ _ _ _

____“You're sweet,” she repeated, teasing him like a big sister again, passing her arm under his as they emerged from the stairs and into the entrance corridor of the ER..._ _ _ _

____...where they almost collided with Hudson, who was heading for the elevator._ _ _ _

____Shit._ _ _ _

____Christa's whole stance turned noncommittal while he swiftly let go of her arm under the surgeon's puzzled stare. People were arriving to take their shift, and Mario could feel many prying eyes on them._ _ _ _

____“Hello, Dr Hudson,” she greeted._ _ _ _

____So amiably, so distantly. The Sun to Pluto's distance, and Hudson paled a little._ _ _ _

____“Christa, I'd like to talk to you if you have a minute,” he inquired, more politely British than ever._ _ _ _

____“Is it about a patient?”_ _ _ _

____“No, it's pers...”_ _ _ _

____“Then no, I don't. Sorry. Good luck for your shift,” she added, her tone more gentle but still firm._ _ _ _

____And she resumed her walk, not looking back._ _ _ _

____Colleague-zoned, ouch. Mario was sorry for Hudson and shrugged in commiseration as he ambled next to Christa. He was actually about to reproach her with not even giving the guy a chance to speak for himself, until he glanced sideways and could read heartbreak in her eyes._ _ _ _

____Feeling self-conscious after he caught such an intimate emotion, he looked around and spotted Adams in the still sparse crowd near the white board. She was too far to have heard the exchange, and Hudson always had his back to her, but she was staring at Christa and her lips stretched in the slow smirk of a cat eating a bowl of cream._ _ _ _

____Mario didn't feel sorry anymore._ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christeal are pretty much in star-crossed lovers mode during this shift, but it will get better eventually (if anyone wants some “much better” right away, I'm going to post a chapter of Better Than Revenge, now).  
> I have a lot already written for this story, the first shift is almost done. Of course, there are a strategically placed scenes missing, sigh.  
> Thanks for waiting for this update if you did, and thanks for reading!


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